The Lemontastic Adventure of Emmett and Rosalie
by ladyeire3
Summary: My gift to BellaFanatic for her birthday. Emmett's cross country roadtrip stalls when he gets a flat in the middle of Missouri. He calls AAA & they call Rosalie. When Emmett questions her abilities tools and clothes fly. Enjoy my dear!


**This lil story is a**

**Birthday Surprise for BellaFanatic's!**

**Seriously woman, I hope you like this cause the lemon is epic, for me anyway...and I think my hands shook more typing this than they did the day I got married:)**

**Thanks to AndyMCope, 2littleladies and my lil sis, c. anna cullen for beta'ing on the fly and making my writing shine.**

**Twilight and it's characters belong to Stephenie Meyer...not me:(**

**Now, on to…**

**The Lemontastic Adventures of Emmett and Rosalie**

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EmPOV

"FUCK-FUCK-FUCKING-FUCK!" I scream as I kick the very flat tire of my brand fucking new Maserati Gran Turismo S. Getting down on my hands and knees, I look for damage underneath my beauty and see a few questionable areas.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

In my infinite wisdom, I decide to take my baby on a cross-country trip to my new digs in LA. I had ignored the words of my father and best friend, who both said it was immeasurably stupid to drive the very new and very expensive car from Manhattan to LA. Did I listen? Uh, that'd be a NO!

Now, I stand beside my perfect green sports car searching for the number of AAA.

SCORE!

"Yeah, I'm stuck on I-70 with a flat tire, and I just passed a sign for Boonville, Missouri… Yeah, I kinda need a specialty place… Um, I have a Maserati, so you can't just hook the son of a bitch up to just any tow… Yeah, I need someone who knows foreign cars…I think I might have damaged the carriage when I ran over a board… Thanks."

One hour and fifty-seven minutes later, the tow truck pulls up. I am about to rip the driver a new asshole when I lock eyes with a version of perfection I never knew existed in the natural world. Her tits bounce in that natural way, ya know? She is tall, like Amazon tall, and blond. Her eyes are the greenest of green and partially hidden behind her wavy hair. Her body curves like my favorite coastal road…I am besotted.

My rant becomes a stutter as she strides toward me with purpose and just the right sway in her hips. Now I'm hard, and stuttering, and undoubtedly looking like a total fucking moron with a speech problem.

"Hiya, I'm Rosalie Hale. Nice car. What did ya hit?" she asks, sticking her hand out for a nice, firm shake. I have something else that would like a firm shake from that hand.

"Uh…Oh, yeah. I hit a piece of lumber that another car rolled into my lane. It was unavoidable. I'd rather have a flat tire than a totaled car." I run my hands through my hair, trying to figure out the best way to ask this model if she really knows what the fuck she is doing before I let her handle my $100k plus car with her big ass tow truck.

"So, do you handle many imports?" That sounds innocent enough.

"As a matter of fact, my shop only handles high end imports, and people as far away as Chicago bring their cars to me. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get this loaded so we can get it back and get you on your way," she responds with an air of arrogance that I don't expect. I am rendered speechless, for the second time in ten minutes by a woman in Carhartt overhauls. A _fuck-hot_ woman in Carhartt overhauls, to be precise.

The drive into Boonville takes less than fifteen minutes. I have not uttered a word since she effectively put me in my place before loading my car, quite capably I might mention, onto the truck. I am, however, thinking over everything she said. She called the shop "my shop", so I assume she either owns it or runs it. I can no more see her as a grease monkey under a car than I can see myself dancing ballet. She did mention people bringing their cars to her specifically though too.

Thoughts of her under a car makes Major Woody stand up and take notice…again. I have to run through my list of boner breakers to rid myself of the total fucking pain in my pants. The usual best friend jerking off and parents having sex seems to do the trick. I decide then and there that she cannot possibly be the mechanic. Perhaps, she's just the office manager; that seems like a plausible alternative.

"I'll let you out here while I unload the car in back. When I'm done, I'll come around and fill you in on the specific damage and give you a rough estimate and ETA, alright?" She is turned to face me in the truck, and as I look at her again all I hear is "GET OUT HERE"... nothing else really makes its way to my brain.

Doing as I am told, I get out and go inside to wait for the verdict. Fifteen minutes of toe tapping and full body fidgeting later, my blond goddess walks in, her face smudged with grease.

"Are YOU the mechanic?" I choke.

She stands there, hands on hips, glaring at me in the most mesmerizing way. I can't look anywhere but directly at her. Her eyes must have fucking tractor beams or something because I can't move either. I just blink…like a fucking imbecile.

"Of course I'm the god damned mechanic, you asshat! Who did you think I was, the secretary?" She is fuming, and I could swear I see actual smoke curling around her head. She's glorious.

"Uh, actually I thought maybe you were the office manager or possibly just the owner. I mean, look at you!" I emphasize my stupidity by gesturing my hand up and down her body. Why I don't just quit while I'm ahead with my balls still firmly attached to my body, I don't know.

"Fucking pig! Why do all men assume that just because I'm a woman I don't know shit about cars? I've been fixing cars longer than you've known the difference between a vag and your hand. REALLY? The office manager or MAYBE the owner! Prick…you are one giant prick of a man, and if you're lucky, I will fix your overpriced replacement for a cock. Actually, just to prove my point you can come sit in the bay while I fix your fucking car, and then I'm going to charge you double!" She storms off, leaving me to assume I am to follow her. So I do. Like an idiot.

As we reach the garage, she walks over to a bench laden with every imaginable tool there is. She begins banging them around loudly, muttering words under her breath like cock-sucker, pussy, and just about every variation of fuck I have ever heard. The effect should be disconcerting, but I find it turns me on. I am hard…AGAIN! It seems this may be my perpetual state if I am anywhere near this woman, which is a problem since it looks as though she is contemplating heaving an overly large wrench at me.

Shit balls…she just threw that fucking wrench at me!

"WHAT THE FUCK, LADY! Keep that shit up, and I'm calling my lawyer!" I shout, though I don't really mean it because her temper is arousing to all my senses.

Before I can continue my rant, she hurls another large metal tool at my head with deadly precision. If my reflexes sucked, I'd be knocked out cold, allowing her to bury me in the back woods of Missouri somewhere. Which, in all honesty, is what it looks like she really wants to do right now.

Holding up my hands I scream, "WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE!" And she does, miraculously.

"Thank you. I am really sorry if I offended you. I've never known a woman as beautiful as you to be into cars, let alone know how to fix them. And you have one helluva left arm on you. Please, is there anything I can do to make it up to you because if this shit keeps up one of us is going to either be unconscious or possibly dead? I, personally like breathing so I vote for figuring this out," I beg.

I watch as my Amazon goddess eyes me from my Nike runners to my blue eyes. The fiery glint in her eye sparks, and she starts toward me, stalking me as though I am her prey. Again, I cannot move, nor do I think I want to. She stops a few feet from me before speaking.

"I can think of a few things but they will involve you using that mouth for something other than insulting my abilities." She cocks her head to the side and continues to stare at me.

"Ahem," I clear my throat, which is suddenly as dry as the fucking Sahara. "What did you have in mind? I mean, I assume talking is out, right?"

"Most definitely. Though I think you will find that you won't be able to talk when I'm done with you," she says.

"Please, do explain. I'm eager to hear your ideas. It sounds as though we may both enjoy this." My voice doesn't break, but the sweat pouring off my forehead has to give me away. I have never been propositioned by a woman and this woman has me so scared I'm not sure I can perform the way I think she expects me to.

She brings her body flush to mine, forcing me to look down at her as her hands begin to undo my pants. She is staring at me and begins to speak.

"Well, let me be clear when I tell you that this is for my pleasure only. Consider it atonement for your misguided considerations of the fairer sex. If you receive any pleasure, it will merely be a side effect of my own. Are we clear?"

"Hmmmm, we're clear. But let me make one suggestion, if I may?" I ask, waiting for her reply, which she gives in the form of a nod. "I will find pleasure in this, but I will make sure you find yours first. All I ask is that you keep all sharp objects out of our path. I know you'd rather hit me than kiss me." I glare back at her before wrapping my arms around her waist and hoisting her to my level. "And you will kiss me," I promise, bringing my mouth down to hers in the manner I've daydreamed of since she stepped out of that god damned tow truck.

My mouth is met with equal aggressiveness as we fight one another for dominance. I'm holding her against me but feel her pulling my head down as she struggles to gain her footing and take control to move us. I'm not having it. If she wants atonement, it will be by my rules.

Rule #1: I am in control.

Continuing to hold her captive as she wiggles enticingly against my rock hard cock, I make the mistake of focusing on how her body feels against mine and fail to realize that she has taken my bottom lip between her teeth until I feel the pinch of a bite.

"WHAT THE FUCK, WOMAN?" I yell.

"My pleasure, fuckhead. Now, put me down," she demands.

Rule #2: Going caveman is only wrong if you are being abusive.

"No. This is how I say I'm sorry. Deal with it," I mumble as I suck on my bleeding lip. I don't give her a chance to mouth off; I take her and throwing her over my shoulder.

Standing in the garage, I locate a nearby empty bench and toss her onto it while unzipping her overhauls. SHE IS WEARING A MATCHED SET PINK LACE BRA AND THONG UNDER IT! I send my silent thanks to the god of all sex kittens before tearing the offending articles from her body. They may be sexy but naked is always better.

I take stock of all her niceties as she lies there like the insanely hot specimen of the female form that she is. From her grease-smudged face to her alabaster legs, she is gorgeous. My eyes are drawn to the nicely manicured curls between her legs. She is a true blond…always good to know the carpet matches the drapes. As she rubs her legs together, I am once again in a trance. The movement of her smooth legs causes her pussy to move. If the fucker had fingers it would be recreating the "I WANT YOU" Uncle Sam poster. It's amazing, the want and need I feel for this woman's lady bits in that very moment.

"Are you just going to stand there and gawk, city boy or are you going to show me what you got under those designer jeans?" she snarks.

Laughing, because honestly, who uses a term like city boy anymore, I look her in the eye as I take off my shirt. Her responding gasp only serves to fan the heat burning a hole in my "designer jeans". Nearly ripping them from my body, I stand before her, bare except for my boxer briefs that do little to hide the fact that my dick is ready to explode, smiling the biggest fucking smile I can remember having.

She squirms on the bench like a fish out of water. I can only pray she is as turned on as I am.

"So, this is it. Once I touch you there will be no stopping and my aim is to make you come as many times as I can before I do. I'd also really like to make sure you remember me with every fucking step you take for the next week, so gentle is off the table. Are you ready?" I smirk, knowing my dimples are like water for a thirsty soul, or so I've been told.

"You can try but my guess is that you will be the one remembering me for a week. You'll be back here before you even open your first moving box, Asshat! Now, stop fucking talking, take off those underwear, and show me what you've got." She opens her legs in invitation, and that's all I need.

My underwear is off and thrown behind me in a matter of seconds. Reaching out, I gently tickle her soft folds as she purrs in contentment. I'm not quite ready to go there yet, though, so I move in between her legs and grab her hips, bringing her pussy flush with my stomach. The wet warmth is exhilarating and a little mind scrambling.

Shaking my head, I lean down and suck one of her gloriously plump breasts into my mouth, biting down on the nipple. She responds by arching her back and swiveling her hips, effectively rubbing her clit against my abs. I'm tempted to help her out but am much too enthralled with her tits to try.

Continuing to lave attention on her perky, pink nipples, I decide it's time to give her love button a little help. I did promise multiple orgasms before we're done.

I begin kneading my hands into the muscles of her stomach and waist, my mouth still firmly attached to her boob. When I reach the area where her thighs meet her hips, I squeeze firmly and move my hands to her inner thighs. She immediately opens wider for me…so responsive and fucking sexy!

"Unf!" she screams. I haven't even touched her wet center, and she is screaming for me. This is going to be good.

My fingers begin to rub along the outside of her folds, whispering touches that serve to make her squirm more violently on the bench. Noticing that she has cold, hard steel in the form of a ratchet right behind her, I decide to go for gold and use my thumb to swirl her clit. I work methodically, slow and light at first, turning into hard and fast. Adding my index finger to the mix, I enter her and curl it just right, hitting that sweet spot that I know will take her over the edge in a matter of minutes.

"FUCK YESSSSSSSSS!" Another scream escapes her mouth and now, instead of moving restlessly, she is rigid. Her knuckles are white from the force she is using to hold onto the sides of the bench and her back is arched, leaving all the muscles from her neck to her thighs clenched and tight. She was glorious before, but in the throes of her first orgasm, she is beautiful beyond comparison.

_Did I really just think that flowery shit?_

_Uh, yes. Yes you did, you pansy assed motherfucker. Hand over your man card now, bitch._

Shaking my head to clear out my inner asshole, I decide it's time to introduce Ms. Hale to the tongue that has launched a thousand orgasms. She relaxes back onto the bench for approximately 4.6 seconds before I go in for phase two of my "let's see how you like this pleasure, Ms. Bossy pants" plan.

With one firm sweet of my tongue from her opening to her engorged nub, I have her panting…again.

"Fuck me, McCarty! That is soooo good. If you stop now I will personally cut off your balls and make them into my version fuzzy diiiiiiiiiiii….SHIT, right there!"

"I have no intention of stopping, Hale. You will be moaning my name for years after I leave," I mumble.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND EAT ME, ASSHOLE!"

"That's Mr. Asshole to you, woman."

Her glare and that motherfucking ratchet get me back on track. My tongue starts massaging her at double speed as I pump my fingers into her pussy. The moans she emits are making my cock rock hard in anticipation.

"YES, YES, YES! FUUUUUUUUCK!" she exclaims as she reaches the promise land for the second time in less than five minutes.

I can't hold off any longer. Pulling her down so that her ass is hanging off of the bench I line myself up to her and push inside forcefully.

"Sweet Jesus," she whispers, making eye contact with me as I hold still and relish the tightness of her.

The urge to pound her into the wood is strong, but before I begin, I lean forward and whisper against her lips. "Not Jesus, just Emmett." As I begin to move my hips, I also kiss her.

Before long her hands are gripping my hair as she assaults my mouth with her slippery tongue. This action mimics that of my cock inside her pussy and drives me fucking insane. I start pounding into her in earnest and can feel my balls tightening.

I can't allow myself to come yet so I slow my movements and pick her up, attaching my mouth to her blush reddened tits again. She tastes almost sweet. I've never been a boob man, but I could be for her.

With purposeful strides, I make it to the hood of my car. Normally I would consider this sacrilege, screwing some chic on my car but this woman and this car are equal in all things.

As her ass touches the cold metal of the hood, she squeaks and it's fucking sexy too. I believe I actually owe my man card to my inner asshole after that thought.

Her arms continue to hold on to my neck as I hover over her, my hands on either side of her body. Moving inside her again, I know I won't last long, so I increase my pace until I am entering her with quick, hard strokes. Each pump gains a gasp from her, and as I increase, so does she.

"Hale, you are amazing. FUCK. I'm not gonna last much longer. SHIT! So fucking good, you horny grease monkey."

"Say that again!"

I'm startled by her request and not entirely sure what I am supposed to say again.

"Say what again?" I ask.

"Call. Me. A. Grease. Monkey. DAMN IT, right there. I'm gonna coooooooooo…" She grunts.

"FUCK ME, WOMAN! You are the sexiest, tightest fucking grease monkey everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" I manage to get it all out before I blow my load, and the orgasm that overtakes both of us is nothing short of explosive.

We lay on top my car, panting like we have run a fucking marathon.

"That was amazing," I say.

"Ummmmm, yeah. Amazing works," she mumbles.

Lying there, I realize I should probably let her get to work, or I won't be able to get back on the road for another day. The problem with this thought is that I really don't want to move, and I know that in less than ten minutes, I will be ready for round two. The soft rhythm of her voice breaks me out of my fantasy of her blowing me at her desk.

"I should probably get to work so you can be on your way."

"Yeah, I'd hate to back you up any. Maybe I'll just wait in the other room while you work." My tone is soft, and I feel kinda fucking emo as I realize leaving her is going to suck.

"When do you need to get to where ever you're going?" She asks, sitting up and sliding off the car. She leaves behind a smudged imprint of her backside, and I briefly consider never washing my car again.

"I have two weeks before I have to start work. I'm headed to LA. Why do you ask?"

"Well, if you're not in a rush I was thinking maybe we could have a repeat when I'm done with your car. You know, for sentimental purposes." She smirks.

"As great as that sounds, I don't know if staying is a good idea. I'm afraid that if I'm here too much longer I will never leave you and I do have commitments on the West coast." My heart that has never been broken before cracks down the center.

"I understand. Maybe you can come back this way sometime and look me up?"

"Hmmmm, that's a definite yes, though I'm not sure I will ever have any other reason to make it to Missouri unless it's to see you." I walk over to where she is reassembling herself and pull on my shorts and jeans.

She is looking at me, and if I didn't know better, I would think she was hurting as much as I was. The thought that killer sex could be the catalyst for all consuming love is bizarre and just…fucked up. The problem is I'm pretty sure that's what is happening.

"How about I stay the night and we can talk. Maybe I can convince you to expand your shop and open in LA?" As I say the words I cringe, thinking she will take offense to my suggestion. Instead, she smiles.

"You know, I've been considering an expansion but I've never considered LA. It's definitely something to think about."

Reaching in, I pull her to me in a hug, trying to convey all the confusing feelings swirling in every part of my brain.

"Can I watch you work? I have honestly never known a woman who knew her way around a car and it's fucking sexy. I am sorry for insulting you earlier, but I'm not sorry for the resulting garage sex. THAT WAS HOT!" I hoot and swing her around in circles.

Trying to catch her breath as I put her down, she answers me. "I would love for you to watch me, and I'm sorry for hurling heavy metal objects at your head. Nice reflexes, by the way. The sex…the sex was smokin', McCarty. SMOKIN'!"

"Please, call me Emmett. Can I call you Rose?"

"By all means. But I think I like your nickname better. From now on, you will be Mr. Asshole. Unless, of course we're around kids, then I suppose Emmett will do." She leans in and kisses me soundly before pushing me in the direction of a chair.

The remainder of the night flies by in a haze of conversation, laughter, and more curse words than a sailor knows.

I stayed for three more days, all filled with sex and conversation. I figure out quickly that if I piss her off just enough the resulting fuck session is filled with steamy language and every position possible. It's nirvana, and as I leave, I make a whole-hearted promise to call and come back to visit in three weeks. I also formulate a plan to get her to take a month off and come stay with me, where I plan on keeping her in my bed as much as possible.

My stupid idea to make a cross-country trip in my brand new Maserati went from hell to heaven in the blink of an eye. I will be forever grateful to that chunk of wood that came so close to costing me a fortune on the side of the road in Nowhere, Missouri. Without it, I might never have met the woman of my dreams.


End file.
